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Hibernating

Do you find yourself sleeping more these days? I do. Lord! Lately I’ve had marathon sleeps–8 or 9 hours night after night–with record amounts of deep and REM sleep, according to my Fitbit. And then, too, I could easily nap in the afternoon–not at all like me. More like a bear. Or Miles.

At first I put it down to the busyness, stress and exhaustion of the last few weeks, getting ready for my solo show, visitors and Thanksgiving. Maybe I’m just catching up? Or what about allergies? Perhaps now that I get weekly allergy shots I’ll sleep rather than sneeze my way through the winter.

I rebelled against the change to cold weather, as usual, but now I have to admit I’m loving this late fall–the bare branches of trees against a sky that’s bright blue, solid white with clouds, or bursting into color at dawn. But wait a minute! I haven’t been seeing the dawn lately. Day after day I’ve been fast asleep. Just thinking of it now makes me a little wistful for my bed.

I love the early sunset and the long nights, being in for the night by 5:00, preferably in pajamas by 7:30, bed by 9:00. I love the coziness of lighted windows and porches in the dark. One does not even have occasion to use the word “cozy” in spring and summer. I’m almost disappointed that we’re already so close to the Winter Solstice, the return of the light and longer days.

So for now everything about this time of year feels just right. We have four very distinct seasons where I live and each has its own beauty. Oh, I might be singing a different tune when the temperature is 1, feels like -10. But that can be an adventure in its own right. Can we get through it?? There’s always some reward. Right now the reward is that I have a bed and dogs to share it with. I make my own schedule, so I really can sleep for hours if I want. How great is that? Life is good. Sleep is good. Zzzzzz.

Here is one of my favorite passages from the excellent J.M. Barrie book, Peter Pan.

“Mrs. Darling first heard of Peter when she was tidying up her children’s minds. It is the nightly custom of every good mother after her children are asleep to rummage in their minds and put things straight for next morning, repacking into their proper places the many articles that have wandered during the day. If you could keep awake (but of course you can’t) you would see your own mother doing this and you would find it very interesting to watch. It’s quite like tidying up drawers. You would see her on her knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some of your contents, wondering where on Earth you picked this thing up, making discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing this to her cheek, as if it were a nice kitten, and hurriedly stowing that out of sight. When you wake in the morning, the naughtiness and evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind and on the top, beautifully aired, are spread out the prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on.” ― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

Think of Mrs. Darling as a part of you, doing this for yourself every night. Wouldn’t it be so nice?

If you’d like to see my new paintings online, go here. If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Dog Patrol

Sitting here writing away sun pouring forth

and all is quiet and peaceful when suddenly

the heads of my two dogs pop up in response

to some inaudible alarm followed quickly

by their two bodies as they step to the foot

of this bed hoping to view the enemy

outside that window Rufus growling

Miles on alert but only a few moments

after which turning to his still growling

compatriot looks him deeply in the eye

gives him a small lick on the nose and

returns to lie by my side, mission aborted,

crisis averted.

In due time Rufus will

reluctantly accede.

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Home Again

How simple a thing it is to be at home

again where one’s heart is

to occupy one’s own bed, the covers skimming

one’s bones as they are known to do

the familiar clock and lamp at the elbow

the special mug for tea now full now empty

to see the neighbor’s green house outside the window

to feel upon one’s thigh the known weight of a beloved dog

whose two baby teeth lie downstairs in a small blue bowl

where they could be found, admired, touched

whenever one wanted.

How simple how simply grand.

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Ship

Lace curtains billow like sails

in the cool morning breeze

with bluejays for gulls

hanging overhead and I

am the captain of this boat

that is my bed with two

stout fellows, one

fierce the other lazy.

Me hearties!

Soon we shall spy land

a not too distant shore

where we shall disembark

to go in search of

mushrooms and wildflowers

carrion and enemies (to each

his and her own mischief).

Tonight we shall board this ship

again in readiness for

tomorrow’s expedition.

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Leaving the Bed

And what shall we do

and whom shall we tell

when we do it and when

ever might we return

from the doing and the telling?

And why must we go and do

why must we ever leave

the poufs and puffs of pillows

the piles of down and feathers

the coze and careless comfort

of cotton silk and flannel

of tea and toast of the Lovely Sun

pressing against windows

wanting only to please come in

spread her skirts over the small

house and touch us gently with her

slender fingers?